


do i love you because you're beautiful, or are you beautiful because i love you

by holsmi



Category: Cinderella (2015)
Genre: Alternate Timeline, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, hidden identity, it's a reverse ever after baby, social distancing got me practicing self-care like, things happen out of order and that's okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:26:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23270149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holsmi/pseuds/holsmi
Summary: "He heard a gasp and then heard her say, "Who are you and why are you messing with my folding?" He turned around and her face lit up, the world brighter for it. "Mr. Kit!" she said. She was dressed simply, much in the way she was the last they met. Her face was slightly smudged with soot, but even still, it could not hide her sweet beauty. He'd dressed plainly to match her; he imagined it was unlikely that an apprentice's son would dress in finery with any regularity.He bowed slightly and returned, "Miss Cinderella. I hope you meant it when you said you would have liked to see me again.""------He found the girl in the forest, time and time again.
Relationships: Prince Charming/Cinderella (Disney)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 277





	do i love you because you're beautiful, or are you beautiful because i love you

**Author's Note:**

> The Captain is never named in the movie, so I named him Nicholas. 
> 
> For Cooper, who better not be reading this.

Kit never anticipated seeing her again. Hoped, begged, and bargained perhaps, but never really expected it. He felt foolish and impulsive, day dreaming of sneaking away from his father and from training in ways that he hadn't since he was a boy, but the sound of steel clanking on steel turned into hoofbeats in his head and his mind drifted to the woods. 

The girl was so disarming, astride on horseback, stubborn and passionate and he never even learned _her name_ and—his felt the sword fly out of his hand and heard it crash to the ground. Disarming, indeed. He winced internally, having the dignity to accept defeat graciously as he straightened. "You, my prince, have been too distracted lately." 

Kit sighed and scratched at the back of his head, "I think I've been an appropriate amount of distracted, if you want my opinion." 

Nicholas laughed and turned to the knights, still practicing their forms, and called for them to continue. A flush came up high on his cheeks, ever so slightly, as he realized that him being so distracted had become commonplace. 

Kit picked up his sword from where it lay on the floor and slid it back in his sheath at his side. Nicholas guided him out of the hall gently, hand at his shoulder, and asked, "Now, tell me what has taken your mind?" At Kit's bashful grin, he stopped walking and said, "So it is the girl from the woods again." 

"She didn't know who I was, Nicholas. She scolded me for frightening a stag, and she looked at me with such compassion. It was--it was like she could see every thought and feeling I'd ever had just by looking at me. As if she could know my life from a glance. And her smile! She smiled so easily, although—"

"Although her eyes were so sad, and you want to know why. Right?" Nicholas finished for him. 

Kit couldn't stop the smile that came across his face, didn't want to stop it. "I've said this before, yes?"

"Just once or twice, sire," Nicholas said, not without mirth.

"I don't think it's too unreasonable to have been swept away by her beauty, her goodness, or the strength of her convictions!" Kit said with a flourish, arms raised. The other people in the hallway stopped to stare at him, and Kit returned his arms to his side. He adjusted the collar of his shirt before walking forward and continuing on, "I simply must see her again."

"And knowing nothing about her—from where she came, what she is actually like, _her name,_ or her knowing nothing of your station deters you?"

Kit continued smiling—he had thought he'd never smiled so much in his life, before meeting this girl. "Not at all."

Nicholas laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "Then find her we shall! Say, do you think she has a sister?"

\------

And find her they did. It took much less time than either of them thought, but only their second day of combing the forest did Kit slow his horse to a stop ear titled to hear a soft voice singing in the distance. He gestured to Nicholas, who stopped beside him.

"Do you hear that?" Kit asked. The soft _lavender's green dilly dilly, lavender's blue_ was so gentle, he could be convinced he was imagining it. Luck could not be so gracious. 

"Hear what?" Nicholas stopped to listen, and he grinned wide. "The singing? Does your country girl sing?"

"I don't rightly know! But if she were to, it would be this beautiful."

Nicholas shook his head and urged his horse on. "Come along then, Mr. Kit."

They rode towards the sound of the singing and Kit's heart felt lighter and lighter as it grew louder. A break in the tree line showed them a small but comely estate, and it was just as he imagined it would be. This beautiful country girl should live in a beautiful country home, just as charming and sweet as her. Over a garden wall she worked, folding laundry at a skilled pace, pulling cloth from a clothesline efficiently. She half sang and half spoke to people around her, though Kit saw no others in the garden. 

A joyful laugh escaped him when he realized that the Mr. Goose she spoke to so formally was a goose in truth and when she spoke to someone near the ground, it must have been another small creature for whom she had great respect. 

"She is as beautiful as you said, sire," Nicholas whispered beside him. "And her goodness is palpable." They watched her for a few moments more before they heard a shrill voice calling a name, _her name._

_"Cinderella!"_ they heard, before two more voices joined the first in calling her name. The girl's singing stopped and she looked back and forth between the house and her folding before throwing the sheet into her basket before rushing off, calling a regretful goodbye to her friends _Gus_ and _Jacqueline._

Kit had an idea for an introduction and moved from their hidden place towards the garden. Nicholas halted his movement with a hand on his arm. "Are you sure, sire?" he asked.

"Oh, my friend, I've never been certain. As I believe she would say, I must have courage, and be kind." 

Nicholas removed his hand and said, "Then go forth with your courage and kindness. I will be around, in case of danger."

Kit thanked his friend before leaving the trees and heading towards the estate. He easily maneuvered over the wall and picked up Cinderella's discarding cloth. She looked so overburdened with the work she had before her and he might as well ingratiate himself to her as soon as possible. An apprentice would surely know how to fold a sheet.

Kit did not know how to fold a sheet, a fact he learned after making several attempts. He didn't know exactly how long he spent trying, and every so often he scanned the tree line for Nicholas, knowing he'd be mocked mercilessly (deservedly) if discovered. 

He heard a gasp and then heard her say, "Who are you and _why_ are you messing with my folding?" He turned around and her face lit up, the world brighter for it. "Mr. Kit!" she said. She was dressed simply, much in the way she was the last they met. Her face was slightly smudged with soot, but even still, it could not hide her sweet beauty. He'd dressed plainly to match her; he imagined it was unlikely that an apprentice's son would dress in finery with any regularity.

He bowed slightly and returned, "Miss Cinderella. I hope you meant it when you said you would have liked to see me again." When he looked back up at her, straightening from the bow, Cinderella was no longer smiling. She was looking down and away from him, as if struck by his words. "I'm sorry if something I said offended you, Miss. I heard your name from someone in the house. Is that incorrect?"

"Cinderella is what my stepmother and stepsisters call me," she said.

"But is it your name? Is that what you wish me to call you?"

Her eyes met his and he felt he could drown in those eyes, in the depths they held. "My father and mother named me Ella."

"Ella is a beautiful name," he said. "I would be honored if you would let me call you that as well."

A moment’s hesitation, and then, "That would be wonderful, Mr. Kit. Now I must ask again: why are you playing in my laundry?"

He looked down to the sheet in his hand, more wrinkled than it had any right to be. "I was—" a laugh escaped him, nervously, "I thought I'd help you with your folding."

She crooked an eyebrow up. "You thought you would leave your apprenticeship in the middle of the afternoon and find my home to help with my folding?"

"Ah, well, not in so many words, no. But, I was riding when I heard your singing and knew it had to be you. Your voice is very lovely." He felt accomplishment at her slight flush. "Helping with your folding was merely coincidental."

Ella walked towards him and took one end of the sheet from his hands. She folded her end and waited for him to copy her. Step by step, they folded this sheet and each sheet after, their hands touching as each final fold brought their ends together. "You've never folded a sheet before, have you?"

"Well, I suppose it has been some time since I..." At her skeptical look, he relented, "No, I've never folded a sheet before. Is it that obvious?" 

"Your lack of skill is betrayed only by the many wrinkles in the first attempt. Though you learn very fast, Mr. Kit," she said, gesturing to the rest of the pile. 

"Only by the good graces of your tutelage, Miss Ella." 

"Ha! Thank you. But, what apprentice has never folded a sheet? What does your father do that allows such a lapse?"

"My father, he—" Kit stammers. He had not yet thought of a suitable lie. He wanted to tell Ella as much of the truth as he could, but not reveal himself as the price. Then, "A steward! My father is a steward for a, uh, large home. I am learning this trade." That, perhaps, was close enough to the truth for his comfort. 

"An apprentice steward who has never folded a sheet before?"

"Well, I did say I was learning my craft." She laughed, and he could have basked in the sound of her mirth forever.

\------

Each time he returned to Ella's home, she looked as delighted to see him as the first time. She was always waiting in the garden and he would help her with her chores and they would learn more about each other. Kit never imagined he'd enjoy physical work as much as he did—it was a good feeling, going to bed each night he saw her with his muscles sore and his body tired. It wasn't unlike training with the sword, but being able to see the fruits of his labor (crops harvested, clothing cleaned, a smile on Ella's face) elicited a different feeling than the development of a skill.

This time, however, when he reached Ella's home, she wasn't waiting for him outside. It was morning, but he hadn't arrived any earlier than they'd agreed, he thought as he looked around the garden. He heard a loud and looked down to see several of Ella's mouse friends unnervingly close to the underside of his boot.

He crouched down next to them and said, "I'm sorry little ones. I hope I didn't hurt you." Kit would admit that he felt silly the first time he spoke to the mice, but the encouragement he received from Ella was so special to him that it was worth it. Eventually, he found their communications relaxing. 

Kit looked at could pick out Gus, but the others' identities remain elusive to him. He had a thought, "Friends, do you know where Miss Ella would be?"

They seemed to perk up, and Kit continued to be convinced that these mice were no ordinary rodents, and they scurried towards the back door to the manor. He followed them, but hesitated outside. Ella had yet to invite him in; they had spent the entirety of their acquaintanceship out in the garden and he couldn't help but feel intrusive by even considering entering her home. 

The mice squeezed under the door, save Gus, too wide to fit with the others. Surely, Ella wouldn't begrudge him helping a friend into the house, and he cracked the door open to let in the mouse. 

As he did, he heard the crash of ceramic hitting hardwood, and a voice screech, " _Cinderella!_ How could you be so clumsy?" 

Another voice, "You've ruined my tea," Both voices didn't so much say the moniker as spit it. 

"I'm sorry, Anastasia, Drisella. I will get you new ones," Ella said. 

"Do not bother," a third voice said, cool and stern. This must have been Ella's stepmother. He heard another crash. "You'd only ruin it again. We will get something in town. Do be a dear and have this cleaned up by the time we return, in addition to the rest of your chores."

If Ella said anything in return, it was too quiet for him to hear. "Come girls, let us be off and away from this mess. And the broken china."

Kit waited until he heard the front door close definitively behind Ella's family before entering the manor fully, reservations long forgotten. He found himself in the house's kitchen and followed the sounds ceramic scraping against itself.

Ella kneeled on the floor in front of a pile of broken china, tea soaking into the apron she wore, sniffling back tears. She must have heard his boots against the floor because she looked up at him and stood abruptly. She still held a few of the larger pieces of china aloft in her hands. 

He breathed her name and went to her side. Unbidden, one hand raised to her cheek and he gently brushed away a fallen tear with his thumb. She looked down at the broken pieces in her hand and gestured weakly. She said, "These were my mothers. The last of her tea set."

"A moment," he said before rushing back into the kitchen. He came back with a cloth and an empty bucket. "If we can save the pieces, maybe we can repair the cups. I should be able to find someone in the palace capable of the work."

She stared at him for a moment, and that feeling that she could see his whole life through his eyes returned. She put the pieces in her hand in the bucket before throwing her arm around his waist, her head buried in his neck. "Thank you, Mr. Kit," she said.

"You're most welcome, Miss Ella," he replied, putting his free hand around her waist and swaying them back and forth where they stood.

He relished her closeness for a few moments more before he pulled away, kneeling down to start picking up the pieces of those precious cups. 

"So," he started, "that was your stepmother and stepsisters?"

Her hands halted their movement for just a moment. "Yes, they're spending the day in the city. Going shopping and, I suppose, now getting tea." 

"You did not wish to join them?" The task of saving the shards of china completed, he took the rag and began to mop up the tea. Ella stood to collect the abandoned breakfast dishes. 

"Aha, even if I wished to or did not have more enjoyable company," Ella nodded to him, "I doubt they would have allowed me to come along anyways."

"Allowed? Are you their family or their servant?" he asked, incredulously. 

She remained silent, and he took in the three place settings at the table, the dismissive tone in which the women spoke to her, and his answer became uncomfortably clear.

He stood, too, and took the dishes from her hand. Kit reset the table, for two, and gestured for her to sit. "Ella, I'd be delighted if you would share this meal with me. You prepared it, so I will clean all the dishes afterwards." Ella looked taken aback and glanced down at herself, sooty and tea-stained. "If you wish to change, I should have the rest of this cleaned up by the time you are ready. Only if you wish it."

She nodded and touched his arm, gently, moving past him and out of the room. "I'll be but a few moments," she said. 

Kit took the extra place setting, the bucket, and the soiled cloth and brought it back into the kitchen. He set the bucket by the door (with full intention of bringing it back to the palace with him) and set himself to cleaning. The thought of his father seeing him like this, what he would say as his son and heir cleaned a kitchen, entertained him through his tasks. 

He left the kitchen and reentered the breakfast room when Ella returned. She was a vision in a simple yellow dress, her hair braided behind her back. Kit had attended a lot of grand balls and elegant parties in his life, but all of those luxuries pale in comparison. "Ella, you look simply lovely." He took her hand lightly in his and kissed the back of it. Still holding her hand, Kit pulled her chair out for her and sat next to her once she was seated. 

Ella served them each a scone, but had to take her hand back to pour them tea. It was the first meal they shared together and Kit hoped desperately it wouldn’t be the last.

They ate quietly for a few moments, and Kit faltered on what to say. He had questions, so many, but was uncertain on where to begin. He put his fork down. “Ella, may I ask you something?” 

“Of course. Anything,” she replied.

“Why do they call you Cinderella, when I know it makes you so sad?”

Ella folded her hands in her lap and stared down at them. “They call me that, for I often wake in the morning with ash on my face from sleeping next to the fire.” She turned her gaze on him, “I sleep next to the fire because sometimes I am too tired to climb the stairs to the attic where I sleep, and it is too cold to sleep up there anyways.” She scoffed quietly, “It is better than ‘Cinderwench;’ Drisella’s suggestion.”

Kit was aghast, furious, that someone could look upon Ella and ever be cruel to her. This was her home, by right, and they have made her a prisoner within it. 

“Darling,” he said, “why do you stay here? Surely you must have other options available to you? I can help you, if you need it.” He put his hand near her on the table, and she slid hers into his grasp. “Just say the word.”

“I can’t just leave. This is my family’s home. My mother and father put all of their love in this home, and I promised to cherish it. To leave it would be to leave them.” She took a breath. “I must simply have courage, and be kind. It will all work out in the end.”

“Oh, my dear, but you deserve all of the kindness in the world. I do not believe they would want you to be treated this way, for I cannot even bear the thought.”

\------

Kit had found a craftsman more than willing to repair Ella’s mother’s teacups, and they were returned more beautiful than they were before; cracks lovingly repaired with delicate lines of silver. He planned to return them to their owner the next time he saw her.

But, thoughts of Ella were pushed out of his mind when his father’s physician failed to find words to describe his condition. The king waved the physician off by saying, “If it takes too long to say what’s wrong, then I already know what you’re going to say.”

“Father, this is serious—”

“Way of the flesh, my boy,” the king says. “Come, we have matters of the ball to discuss.”

Kit’s eyebrows furrowed. “Surely we aren’t still doing that.”

“Of course we are! And you have a portrait to sit for.”

“Father, if I must marry, could I not wed, say, an honest country girl?”

“Absolutely not!” said the Grand Duke, barging into his father’s rooms, Nicholas close behind him. “What divisions could a simple country girl provide the kingdom? We are a small kingdom amongst great states, Your Royal Highness. And it’s a dangerous world.” 

“Is this about the girl you met in the forest a few months back?” Kit nodded. “I’m sorry, but the Grand Duke is right, my son. I just want to see you and the kingdom safe. You will meet a bride at this ball and marry a princess. It is tradition.” 

It _was_ tradition for a bride to be chosen at these ridiculous balls. If his father were just to meet Ella, surely he’d love her as much as Kit did. He wanted nothing more than for his father to know her, and for Ella to know him. And that might be—”Alright, but I have one condition. We open up the ball to all eligible young ladies in the kingdom, and of them, I will choose my bride.”

Nicholas sent a knowing look, and Kit was not certain this plan would work. Although, he did have courage and kindness on his side. He knew those held certain magic.

\------

Kit brought the teacups to Ella’s home the next day. She had expected her stepmother and stepsisters to be out, so he followed his usual path through the garden and into the kitchen door of the manor. She was waiting in the kitchen for him and hugged him as he walked through the door.

He presented the package with a flourish. Her eyes lit up and her smile widened as she took the package, delicately setting it on the table as if its contents were the most valuable thing in the world. If Kit were to think longer on it, to her, they probably were.

With care, Ella opened the package and saw the two cups nestled in paper, protecting them from jostling. She picked one cup up and traced her finger down a thin line of silver. “Kit, these are magnificent. But,” she paused and her smile fell, “these must have cost a fortune. I cannot accept—”

“No, no, please,” he interrupted, “the craftsman owed my father a favor.” _A technicality._ “He completed the work free of charge. Please, accept them. As a token of my affection for you.”

“Alright, then. I will. Thank you, Kit.” She looked pleased, and Kit couldn’t have been happier. “Shall we use them, then?”

“We shall!” Kit moved to put the kettle on—he was becoming quite adept at household chores, a fact he’s proud of—when the front door forcefully opened, the sound echoing through the house. The screeches of Ella’s stepsisters followed shortly after. She moved to leave the kitchen, and gestured for him to stay there. That was fine by him, truly, for he had no desire to hasten the introduction between him and Anastasia and Drisella. 

“What happened?” he heard Ella ask. More hollers followed.

“Quiet down, girls!” Lady Tremaine ordered. “The prince is hosting a ball and he plans on choosing a bride from those attending! Oh, I can picture it now, the prince choosing one of my girls as his queen!”

Anastasia said, “I am going to trick him into loving me,” to which Kit snorted.

Lady Tremaine said, “Now, you must go into town immediately and order three gowns from the seamstress. Hurry along!”

Three? “Three?” Ella said, sharing his surprise. “That’s so generous of you! Thank you so much for thinking of me.”

“Thinking of you? Whatever do you mean?” 

“Mother,” Drisella said, “she thinks the third gown is for her!” Her sister joined her in cackling. 

“Be ever so clear, _Cinderella_ ,” Lady Tremaine said, “one gown for Anastasia, one gown for Drisella, and one gown for me. Now go, dear.”

The rest of the conversation escaped Kit, too caught up in how utterly _unfair_ it was to treat Ella this way. Sweet and kind and unafraid to do the right thing. He was too focused to notice Ella reentering the kitchen until she spoke, “I’m afraid I will have to cut our afternoon short. I must go into town.”

“Ella,” he said.

“Did you know about this ball?” she asked. “Do you plan on attending?”

“Yes. Yes to both.”

“Then I will still go, regardless of not having a new dress.” She leaned against the table near him, where tea was prepared in her repaired teacups. “I have a dress of my mother’s that I’ve been meaning to take in.”

“Ella, I can help you with whatever you—” she interrupted him with a raised hand.

“No, I want to wear my mother’s dress. It will be like bringing her with me to the palace. And I do so want to go with you, if you’ll save me a dance.”

Slowly and gently, he telegraphed his movements before kissing her softly on the side of her head. “There is no one else I plan on dancing with,” he said, meaning it. “I won’t be able to transport you, though, I’m sorry. I can send someone if you need.”

“I’m sure I can ride with the others, even if just on the back step.” She laughed, but it was the laugh of someone knowing it was a genuine possibility. 

“There is something more I need to discuss with you, about the ball, if you can spare a few minutes.” He wondered how to tactfully phrase, _Ella, the ball is for me! How does marriage sound?_

“Can it wait? I must be off as soon as I can.” 

“It can.”

\------

Kit stood by his father high in a balcony high above the attendees of the ball. He scanned for Ella and did not find her. He was overcome with worry, as he had long since spotted Anastasia, Drisella, and the Lady Tremaine. 

He knew he could wait no longer, “Father there is something I must discuss with you.”

The king peered up at him, disbelieving. “Now?”

“Yes, now.” His father waited, and Kit continued, “Father I have already found the woman I want to marry.”

His father’s confusion deepened and he heard the Grand Duke squawk behind him. “Well, which princess is it?” Kit’s face must have betrayed the truth because realization dawned on his father. “It’s the girl from the forest, isn’t it? The ‘honest country girl’.”

“Yes,” Kit kneeled down by his father’s throne. “I love her, father.”

“Kit, she is not a princess.”

“You always told me how you and mother knew you loved each other at first glance, how is this any different?”

“Your mother was a princess.”

“And if she were not?” Kit asked, “Would that have stopped you?”

“If your mother wasn’t a princess, I’d never have met her.”

“But _would that have stopped you?_ ”

His father sighed. “No, I don’t suppose it would have.” 

“Your majesty!” the Grand Duke cried from behind them, trying to interrupt. Nicholas, blessed Nicholas, dragged the man away. 

“Father, we do not need to seek aid through marriage with outside kingdoms. We need to look within our borders and see that we need nothing beyond what we have. If we have courage and are kind, we will make it through.”

The king looked at Kit indulgently, and then looked out at the sea of faces before him, colorful dresses whirling, dancing like waves. He patted his son’s face and said, “Alright, my boy. I love you, and you will marry for love, if that is your wish. You must bring me this girl when she arrives, however.”

Kit stood and kissed his father’s head. “I would wish for nothing else.”

\------

Kit was alone in the center of the dance floor when she entered. He didn’t notice her, for just a second, but when he did— _oh._

  
  


She was glorious in a flowing blue gown, unlike anything he’d seen her wear before. The crowd of dances parted for him as he moved closer to her. He stopped short in front of her and held out his hand. Ella took it and let herself be dragged into a twirling dance. 

She laughed as he spun them and said, “Kit! You said you were an apprentice, not the prince!”

“Ella, my darling, what is a prince if not an apprentice to the king?” She hit him lightly in the shoulder before leaning her forehead against his, and he knew her not to be angry with him for the deception. Still, he said, “Forgive me?”

“Anything,” she said. 

When they had danced their fill, Kit brought them out of the ballroom and into the palace. He wished her to see his home, as he had seen hers. 

He led her to the large portrait room and she poorly stifled a laugh at the image of him posing stiffly as a young child, chubby cheeks broadcasting his displeasure. He pulled her away petulantly and she had the decency to fake contrition. Kit stopped in front of a regal portrait of his mother and told her as such.

Ella stared thoughtfully at the painting, as she does most things, before confidently stating, “You look like her.”

He kissed her cheek, “As you look like yours.” He paused for a moment, “I believe they would have liked each other.”

“Oh, I am positive they would have.”

Kit was bursting with joy as he took her to his favorite parts of the palace, and she visibly delighted at his secret garden. Childish glee overtook her as she looked at the swing and she asked, “May I?”

“I _insist,_ ” he responded. When she sat, he stood behind her and gently pushed her on the swing. 

“A swing would be delightful at the manor, don’t you think?” she asked, and she froze before he could answer her. “Wait,” she said and stood, turning to face him. “You’re the prince.”

“Yes,” he said, confused.

“The prince of this ball.”

“Yes.”

“The prince of the ball, where he decides on a bride.”

He walked towards her and put both of her cheeks in his hands, stroking her face. “Yes,” he said.

Her fingers encircled his wrists, but she did not pull them away. “Do you mean to ask me to marry you?”

Kit kissed Ella’s lips just once before confirming, “If you will have me, Miss Ella.”

“As if there was any doubt, Mr. Kit,” she said, but her face fell. Distantly, Kit could hear the clock striking midnight and she pulled herself from his grasp. “Oh, I must go.” 

He followed behind her as she left his garden. “Go? Go where?”

Not stopping, she said, “I must go home, just for tonight. It involves lizards and pumpkins, and I simply cannot explain.” 

“Then tell me this, can I come see you tomorrow?”

She did pause then, briefly, to squeeze his hand and said, “Tomorrow, and every day after.” She ran, then—an impressive feat in glass shoes—and he called out to her, “At least allow me to see you home!”

She reached behind her for him and he ran to catch up, “Come along, then! But do not be alarmed when I turn back into a pumpkin.”

"A pumpkin!" he exclaimed from behind her. 

Together, they ran through the halls of the palace and back into the ballroom. Hands grabbed at him but Ella pulled him forward, unrelenting. They climbed the grand staircase to exit into the cold night air and unexpectedly found his father.

"Father!" Kit said. He looked to Ella and curtseyed gracefully to him. "Father, this is Ella. Ella, this is my father. I'm escorting her home."

In a rush, Ella said, "Your Majesty. Your son is just wonderful, and it's so clear to see how much he loves you. I'm so delighted to meet you, even if you aren't a steward." She curtseyed again, shallower that time, before pulling him along. Feeling light, Kit waved to his flabbergasted father and allowed himself to be led.

Outside, a grand carriage awaited them. They raced down the steps, and he grabbed her shoe when it fell off her foot on the way. They climbed into the back of the carriage and laughed, out of breath, when the door shut behind them and they began to move.

"Ella, where did this come from?"

"Would you believe me if I said magic?"

"I wouldn't if anyone else said it. But from you? I believe it."

Not long after they set off, the carriage began to shake furiously and footmen were _decidedly_ more green than they had been a few moments ago.

He held onto Ella around her shoulders, and her dress started to change colors. "Ella, what's happening?"

"It's the last echo of the last bell of the last stroke of midnight. We have to get out of here!" She opened the now orange carriage door and pulled him out the door with her. They crashed on the dirt road, surrounded by mice and _lizards_ with a cracked pumpkin oozing innards onto the ground and he laughed and laughed. She joined him, laughing at the absurdity. 

"I _love_ you," he said, and he kissed her where they lay on the ground before standing and helping her to her feet. She stood uneven, standing on only one glass shoe. He knelt and slid its match onto her other foot before offering his arm. "May I walk you home, Miss Ella?" 

Ella laughed, delighted. She scooped up their friends and took his arm. "It would be my absolute pleasure."

The walk was lovely and they too soon came to the front of the manor. Ella set their little friends down in the garden and climbed the manor's steps. The greenhouse in the back of the garden was destroyed, shattered, and he pointed her attention to it.

"Magic, yes?"

"It must be!" she said, her arms raised in enthusiasm. "You could stay the night, if you wanted. I could make up a guest room for you." 

"I must return to the palace tonight. But, tomorrow, yes?"

She beckoned for him and he went. She stood taller than him, with her on the steps, and she put her hands on his shoulders. She kissed him softly and said, "Hurry back to me."

Kit broke out of her grip and walked away from the manor, back to the palace. Every time he turned back, he saw her there, watching him go.

\------

They were off as soon as Kit could drag Nicholas out of the palace the following morning. Nicholas laughed as Kit attached a small cage to his horse’s saddlebags—a perfectly suitable home for a few small mice.

“What is _that_ for?” Nicholas asked.

“I believe Ella would not like to leave behind some of our friends.”

“As you say, sire.”

His father could not be persuaded otherwise, so accompanying them was a unit of the palace’s guard dressed in their finest regalia. It was absolutely essential for ‘the momentous act of bringing his bride back to the palace,’ per the king.

Ella was singing in the window of her room in the attic _(lavender's blue dilly dilly, lavender's green)_ and she stopped when they arrived. She waved at him and left the window seat.

Still, the pomp and circumstance of the moment drew a significant reaction from Ella’s stepsisters and stepmother. The three of them gracelessly fell out of the front door to stand before them, bowing exuberantly. 

“Your Highness!” Lady Tremaine said. “To what do we owe this immense pleasure?”

“Well, my lady, I’ve come to collect my bride.” Ella stepsisters screams filled the air, and Lady Tremaine came down from the steps to stand by him, still astride on his horse.

“I cannot tell you how much it pleases me that you’ve chosen one of my daughters to be your bride.” She gestured to the girls, “Which has stolen your heart, my lord?”

“Neither,” he said, and Lady Tremaine reared back, slightly. “I’m here for _—Ella,_ ” and Ella walked out the door at that moment, a small bag in hand and Kit and his company climbed down from their horses, bowing to her slightly. 

“Mr. Kit,” she greeted him, smiling. Her stepsisters tried to block her path down the steps, expressing their disbelief and calling her _Cinderella._

Kit moved around Lady Tremaine to approach the steps. Speaking to Anastasia and Drisella, he said, “I will not have you speak about my bride this way. You should show her your respect.” To Ella he said, “Do you know where Jacqueline and the others are? I have their transportation ready, should you wish them to join us.”

Ella nodded before running back into the house momentarily, coming back with four small mice. Kit gestured for her stepsisters to move aside and they did, still stunned by his rebuke. He took Ella’s bag for her, leading her to his horse where she gently placed the mice in the cage. He placed a hand softly on her cheek and asked, “Are you ready to go?”

Ella stared past him at the house, taking it in. He knew that she knew this didn’t have to be the last time she came here, but this was symbolic—her leaving this place meant leaving the life she led under her stepmother and stepsisters’ thumb. She nodded and moved ever so slightly towards them. She looked to her stepmother and then to each of her stepsisters and said simply, “Live well,” with all the grace of a future monarch.

Kit helped her up into the saddle of his horse and climbed up behind her. She leaned back into his chest and he turned his horse away from the manor and back towards the palace and towards the rest of their lives.

**Author's Note:**

> hey y'all i'm back at krispy kreme [[does a flip, crashes into sign]]
> 
> Thanks for reading—I've been meaning to write this for literal years.


End file.
